


Certain as the Sun, rising in the East

by MANGAMANIAC666



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Beast Harry Styles, Beauty and the Beast, Disney, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 02:29:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11796540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MANGAMANIAC666/pseuds/MANGAMANIAC666
Summary: The Rose she had offered, was truly an enchanted rose, which would bloom until his twenty-fifth year. If he could learn to love another, and earn his love in return; when the time has come and the last petal falls, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast... For all time…As the years passed, he fell into despair, and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a Beast?~Larry Stylinson Beauty and the Best AU





	Certain as the Sun, rising in the East

**Author's Note:**

> First off, dont take this fanfic too seriously XD I wrote this as a fun joke with a friend about 2 years ago and we never finished it (right after the naughty boy fiasco I think lol). Right now as I'm posting this, I still haven't written ANYTHING for chapter 2 ^^;; I am quite proud of what we written so far at the time though. Now, I have to tap in and get back into the flow of it, wish me luck!!!
> 
> This was posted months ago but didnt gain any views so I deleted it, Now, that I havent posted any fanfics here in months as well, why not re-upload it here and see how it goes hmm?

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, probably far away from where you're living that's for sure, a young Prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired, the Prince was spoiled, selfish, and unkind. Did I mention sassy? Yeah he's fucking sassy. But then, one winter's night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered him a single rose In return for shelter from the bitter cold. Repulsed by her appearance, the Prince sneered at the gift, and turned the old woman away. But, she warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within. However, when he dismissed her again, the old woman's ugliness melted away, to reveal a beautiful Enchantress. The Prince tried to apologize, only it was too late, for she had seen that there was no love in his heart.

As punishment, she transformed him into a hideous (if that is ever possible) beast, and placed a powerful spell on the castle, and all who lived there. Ashamed of his monstrous form, the beast concealed himself inside his castle, with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world. The Rose she had offered, was truly an enchanted rose, which would bloom until his twenty-fifth year. If he could learn to love another, and earn his love in return; when the time has come and the last petal falls, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast.. For all time…

  
As the years passed, he fell into despair, and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a Beast?

* * *

 

Harry Styles walked out the door of his house and into the warm morning sunshine. Its his usual routine to finish chores early in the morning and later, when the sun comes up, he heads out to town.

Ever since moving to this town everything was peachy for him. Except, the downside was that everyone thought he was … odd. It took time not noticing, but once Harry did, he felt a like an outcast. He didn't know the particular reason why they thought he was that way. After some time, it didn't seem to bother him, although once and awhile it did seep into his mind and taunt him. Crazy as it sounds, books actually gave him a sense of security and foundation. Ever since he met James Corden, the sweet bookstore owner in the middle of town, he had found a place where he could belong and feel like himself; away from the toxic comments for a while.

As Harry sung his brown basket with care. It may be a unadorned town, but he was lured in by the beautiful scenery of this small town, nonetheless. It was always a little town, a very neighbor village at that. It was close knitted. Which resulted in everyone greeting everyone else each and every day like the one before, waking up to say a cheery “Bonjour!”

He could already see the little town’s people walking about and setting up their work. There goes the Baker with his tray like always, the same old bread and rolls to sell. It may be repetitive, but Harry thought they were delicious. No one made something so simple, so unique.

Just seeing that reminded Harry of the morning him and his mum moved to the little town with little people yet it seemed; this poor provincial town.

“Morning Harry.” The Baker exclaimed, voice full of toil for the day.

Harry jumps over to the Bakers side. “Morning, sir!” He widely smiled in return.

“Where you off to?” He asked kindly, in spite of not being entirely disinterest; simply out of  _courtesy_.

Harry beamed. “The bookshop!” He briskly pulled out the book he had finished the night before from his basket. With only placing his fingers on the binder on the book got him feeling excitement, remembering everything about the story. He nearly squealed in glee. “It’s the most wonderful story about a beanstalk and an ogre and –“

“That’s nice,” He interrupts. “Marie, the baguettes! Hurry up!”

At that, Harry shook his head, threw his arms up unconcerned, knowing the normalcy of someone rejecting to him blabbering about the stories he’s read. He let it go with a humorous smile, and moved on with his day.

Again, Harry heard the gossip about him while walking past the people of the little town. It was the same old conversation topic: “Look there he goes he’s so strange! What? You can’t  _tell_?” “Never part of the crowd, his button nose is in a book!” “His head is up in the clouds!” “No denying, he is a funny lad, that Harry!”

'Ignoring them is  _easy_ as pie,' he often thought sarcastically.

Harry jumped on the back of a wagon as it rode through the town; it was a fun means of transportation. Plus, it gets him to the bookshop way faster, and who likes to walk on their feet all the time anyways?

He saw the town’s folk converse into their regular bickering and forced friendly greeting. He thought to himself over and over again, ‘there must be more than this provincial life.’

In no time, he glided of the back of the wagon and headed towards his eager awaited destination.

He gingerly opened the front door of the bookshop.

“Ah, Harry!”

Harry was happy to see the face of another person who shared a deep love of books. James Corden wasn’t judgmental, he loved to drink in the crazy, strange and mysterious. Harry’s heart warmed at James’ accepting presence. “Good morning!” Harry pulled his latest read out and handed it to James. “I’ve come to return the book I borrowed.”

James laughed, putting the book back on the shelf. “Finished already?” He wasn’t at all surprised.

Harry giggled and practically skipped over to the shelves full of books. He was so excited to start another story. “Oh, I couldn’t put it down.” He informed brightly. Harry then jumped onto the movable step ladder, climbing higher to examine any new books he could’ve missed. “Have you got anything new?” He asked, sticking his nose too far that some dust bunnies hit him in the nose and sneezed.

James couldn’t hold back another laugh. “Not since yesterday.”

“That’s alright, James.” He rolled the ladder on its tracks toward the edge and swiftly picked up a book he very well remembers. He couldn’t contain a grin. “I’ll borrow this one!” Handing it to James down below.

“That one?” James adjusted his glasses from the bridge of his nose. “But, you’ve read it twice.”

“Well that’s why it’s my favorite!” Harry swings the ladder back into its original placement near James as he lets his hand swing off for dramatic effect, wanting to describe his affection for the book.  “Far off places, daring  _swordfights_ , a  _prince_ in disguise!” He flailed his arms of like he was sword fighting for emphasis, nearly falling off.

Once Harry brushed off a giggle and hopped off, James stopped toward him with the book out in front. “Look, if you like it  _that_ much, it’s all yours.”

Harry’s eyes grew. “But –“

James placed a reassuring hand on Harry’s shoulders. “I insist.”

He led Harry out to the front door, smiling at the curly haired boy reaction to his gift, gleaming eyes and smiling from ear to ear, even his dimples were showing. “Thank you very much!”

When Harry left the shop, he couldn’t believe his stars! The book that practically swooned him was all his own now. James was wonderful. He’ll have to bake him something later, if his mom dint already use half the kitchen supplies for her inventions by now. This couldn’t be real. This book engorged him into the idea of falling for such a charming … prince. Harry didn’t find it strange that he was looking for a prince. But, ideally, the story had the prince with fair skin, smooth voice, and courage. The best part, that captivating characteristics. Those were all points on his part.

It seemed everyone in the town could just smell his aim for the same side. It wasn’t like he didn’t notice the admiring glares from women as some men did looked him over twice as he walked by. He heard them whispering how peculiar he was, how different. “It’s probably a  _fake_ façade” “He’s always so far off! “ “Why would people find him  _appealing_?” Harry could definitely say the same.

What a puzzle that was.

Harry took company to a beautiful water fountain in the middle of the little town. Hugging the book to his chest as he re-read his favorite parts that made his heart swing! How the prince was fighting to regain his true love. The great sensations the book made him feel was nothing he’s ever felt. The book was so dear to him. It was crazy how he loved it that much. Did he mention he loved the princes' strange sass?

“Isn’t this amazing?” He asked the sheep that accompanied him, unnoticeably parted from the Sheppard heard. “This is my favorite part too!” He smirked, going back to the beginning, continuing to flipping the pages. “Here’s where she meets prince charming! But, she won’t discover that till chapter 3.” He whispered the last part sneakily to another sheep beside him, but the sheep could care less and took a large bite to the corner of the top page.

Harry didn’t notice, spacing out as he recollected the memory he had when he first read that chapter and sighed.

* * *

 

Close across town, a hoard of geese were flying overhead in a usual V formation, and suddenly one was shot down, plummeting to the ground.

A short, overly plump man raced to catch it into his cheap sack. Holding out his bag, he waits for the geese to fall perfectly into it, only it misses. He instead stuffs it into the bag with failure.

He shook it off and waddled over to his partner Zayn Malik. Zayn was the most respected and strongest man in their little town. He was well admired and was basically the town’s hero. He would do anything dangerous to grow his audience and their attention. He even had trophies from his hunting expeditions which were proudly mounted on his wall.

He certainly  _loved_ to be above all.

And, of course, girls feel to their knees for him. They probably fell because of how large their breasts were.

“Wow!” He encouraged, kissing up to his partner. “You didn’t miss a shot, Zayn! You’re the greatest hunter in the world!”

Zayn blew the last of the steamed powder from his giant musket. “I know.” He swayed. Knowing Naughty Boy (his nickname to him, during their first night drunk together, long story, it involved syrup and feathers), would be dedicated to him. Making him feel superiority every waking hour of the day.

“No beast alive stands a chance against you,” He continues, while he picks up the dead animals in the sacks on both his hands and tried catching up with Zayn. He laughed out, “And no beauty for that matter!”

Zayn grasped his friend’s collar and agreed without a second thought. “It’s true, Naughty Boy - HAH!” He worked hard to breed such strength and marvelous muscles every man wanted and every girl loved to touch. As well as a jaw to kill for. He knew he had it all. His good looks bought him many nights of fun. “And, I got my sights set on that one!” Pointing his musket to the direction of the person.

He pointed to Harry Styles. The beautiful man with curly brown hair that surpassed his shoulders, a definite face, large vibrant green eyes, contagious smile (well Zayn actually hasn’t got the chance to see it of it before hand, only ever seeing it from afar) and a body sculpted unlike any bird Zayn was ever with. But, he was not exaggerating. He seriously meant that. He preferred women in his exterior of liking both sexes, however that Harry Styles was something to behold.

“The inventor’s son?” Naughty Boy muttered as his face was very buried deep into Zayn’s large, weighed shoulder as Zayn wrapped it around him easily enough

“He’s the one! The lucky one I’m going to marry!”

“But he’s –“ He didn’t finished as he was dropped to the ground without support and a large thud followed his hard fall. When this happened he was like an overweight turtle on his back.

“The most  _beautiful_ specimen in town!” He watched as Harry greeted an older woman with a kind smile and obvious tenderness in his eyes. Zayn smirked and fixed his hair up. He knew he looked good already, but it was a habit before he spoke to Harry Styles.

Naughty Boy managed to get back on his feet, hastily picking up the sack of dead animals and recited again, “I know, but –“

He was cut off by Zayn throwing down his musket hard to Naughty Boy and it hit him square in his face, a groan passed his lips in pain.

Zayn looked down at Naughty Boy, pursing his lips at his friend’s non-subtle dislike to his love interest. “And that makes him the best! Are you saying I don’t  _deserve_ the best?” Cocking a suspicious brow at him. Zayn’s eyes were full of warning that Naughty Boy shied away pretty quickly. Knowing how Zayn acts when he’s mad, Naughty Boy called it the “Busting a musket into someone’s sorry arse” expression.

“Of course! I mean, you do!” He shakily mustered.

Zayn slyly smiled at his triumph. “Right from the moment I met him, saw him, I said he’s gorgeous and I fell.” He visioned what an angel would look like, and it was Harry. When the little town held their festival a couple weeks ago, Harry opened up for the talent acts, singing with so much adoration. No doubt. His appearance like one, and his voice was like one in the primitive flesh. He knew from the way his trousers tightened – I mean how his  _heart_  responded.

Harry ended his pleasant conversation with the old lady and proceeded to cross paths with Zayn not taking any notice of him, because his nose was happily buried in his book. Zayn quickly adjusted his pose to appear normal, and not like he was oogling him a moment ago.

“Here in town there is only him,” He told Naughty Boy after Harry had passed. “Who is as beautiful as  _me_?” He added spaciously, appreciating himself in the shiny pot hanging from the shops roof. “So, I’m making plans to woo and marry Harry!”

Once he looked back to make sure Harry was still in his line of sight, he was now far from Zayn than he thought.

He was ready to make his big move.

“Zayn is so cute!”

“Isn’t he dreamy?”

“He’s such a tall, dark, strong handsome brute!”

The bimbettes he often passed by gawking him, but he didn’t care, his eyes were set on a curly haired fellow, and he had to catch up to him. He just had to have him.

There were too many people in this damn town than he would like right now. Everything was delaying him from reaching Harry. He was already far up ahead, and Zayn was struggling to keep up, maneuvering his body, curving it almost all around as he tried not to run into anyone.

Then, finally there was an opening, it was only a second, yet Zayn was determined to take it with a sly smile. Ready to approach his prey.

However, that moment went quickly as it came, and he strived to surpass the towns folk that was greeting him.

“Bonjour!”

“Pardon.”

“Good day!”

“ ‘Cuse me!”

Harry took a moment away from his book and scanned the town once more, and heavily sighed as he thought again, ‘There must be more than this provincial life.’

Zayn actually had to climb up a roof of a house to escape the crowd of cockblockers and spotted his one and only Harry, heading back up the path to his home. He laughed and leaped easily from roof to roof until he jumped down in front of Harry, startling him a pinch.

Zayn put his hands on his shoulders, making him seem bigger and dominate as he approached Harry.

“Hello, Harry.”

“Bonjour, Zayn.” He acknowledged flatly in return.

Harry always never faulted when Zayn would look at him that way, he knew that look far too well. He wasn’t at all blind. When they first met he had the same defiance in his ravenousness eyes, and hungry look that followed suit. Harry never mentioned it to anyone. Nevertheless, he knew what Zayn was after. It was quite odd why he wanted anything to do with him in the first place. His intentions only seemed to be going after attractiveness and beauty.

And yes, Harry has heard him call that before. He would twist his lips in disgust.

Now, Harry was truly startled when he was snapped from his thoughts as Zayn snatched his book from his hands from behind, leaving Harry to stay silent, looking at his hands in horror until Zayn spoke up.

“Oooh.” Sounding sarcastic as he flipped through the books pages.

Harry scoffed, facing him. “May I have my book, please?” He tried to get the book back himself, but to no avail as Zayn was a few inches taller and pushed the book away from Harry’s measly reach.

“How can you read this?” He asked, continuing to flip the pages and randomly held the book horizontally, as if he never even held a book in his entire life. It made Harry cross his arms patiently enough, a smile played at the corner of his lips, entertained by the fact that he was convinced Zayn never read a book. It was ridiculous.

Harry contained a laugh. “Well, some people use their  _imagination_.”

“Harry, it’s about time you got your head out of those books,” He sweetly teased, swinging the book in front of Harry, before reaching for it Zayn quickly threw it behind him and it landed in a small puddle of mud. “And, pay more attention to  _important_ things.”

Harry gasped, sharply sprinting to it, horrified by the fact how Zayn ruined the precious book.

Harry fell to his knees and was about to pick it up, until Zayn stepped right in front of him.

“Like  _me_.” He proposed.

A large sound of obnoxious sighs came from behind Zayn as Harry noticed the Bimbettes that followed Zayn around, infatuated by his figure and fame. Harry glared. He attempted to reach his book and Zayn pushed his large boot into it, making it sink in more. Finally, he got his stupid foot off and Harry briskly grabbed it by the corner as mud dripped from it. He used his hands to wipe off as much residue as he can manage.

“The whole town is talking about it,” He explained as Harry gave him an annoyed stare. “It’s not right for a beauty like you to read. Soon they start getting ideas and  _thinking_.” He groaned, his nose crinkling up in utter disgust at the last part. He hated when that happened, it ruins the attractive appeal.

Harry pulled the book to his chest firmly, cleaning it fruitfully, and walked toward Zayn. “Zayn, you are positively prevalent.” He replied dryly. He obviously thought of the traditional family aspects to pursue out of Harry, however twisting it because clearly they are both men. Didnt seem to stop his mind from craving.

Zayn snorted, and put a strong, confident hand over Harry’s shoulder. “Why thank you, Harry.” He huskily whispered in his ear. Harry rolled his eyes in response. His nose also wrinkled, did Zayn always have to smell like dried hay and hunted animals? “What do you say you and me take a walk over the tavern-” He started, taking a quick glance down at Harry, using his best smile, and frustratingly noticed he didn’t appear at all fascinated and only pulled that stupid book closer to his chest, ready to bolt away. Zayn snatched the book out of Harry’s grasp and Harry once again struggled to retrieve it.

Zayn continued, while dragging Harry along. “-and take a look at my hunting trophies?”

Harry inwardly groaned, a smile tugging at his lips, in hopes Zayn will have sympathy and leave him be forever. Honestly, that was too much to ask of the broot. “Maybe some other time.”

He could hear the gasps and sighs of the Bimbettes at he declined Zayn’s offer.

“What’s  _wrong_ with him? He must be stupid!”

“No, even worse, he's crazy!”

“Zayn’s gorgeous!”

Harry had enough, next for a few moments he finally used whatever strength he had and unconstrained himself away from Zayn’s hold, snagging his book away from Zayn’s hands, while beginning to step further and further away from his alarming figure. Harry didn’t want to say he was frightened, but he was.

He begged in distraught, “Please, Zayn, I can’t. I have to get home to help my mum.”

He had to breathe. He was so very close to home, and wanted to hurriedly escape this distressing situation.

“Goodbye.”

Zayn stood there in awe, while beside him Naughty Boy spoke up, his voice slurring in mockery. “That crazy old inventor? She needs all the help she can get!” Giving Zayn a humorous look, and they both erupted into loud, hearty laughter.

Harry’s cheeks and ears fumed at the sickening sight. “Don’t talk about my mum that way!” He shouted angrily, his brows tightening, making the two go quiet.

Then, Zayn looked down to his friend and conking his pointed elbow into Naughty Boys gut. “Yeah! Don’t talk about his mum that way!” Acting as if he wasn’t laughing coldly at his remark seconds before.

Harry put his book back into his basket furiously and clenching his teeth and bald his fists to his sides until they were knuckle white. “My mum isn’t  _crazy_. She’s a genius!” He defended. He wanted to knock them senseless.

Suddenly, there was an explosion that emerged from behind Harry, and he knew exactly where it came from. A look of shock formed on his face and his only thought was to go to his mother's aid, not thinking twice about Zayn and Naughty Boys continued laughter.

Rushing home, Harry yelled out to his mother, opening the door the descended to the basement below, airing away the brown smoke that thickened as he shot his head in. “Mum!”

A coughing was heard in answer, along with a crash. Harry jumped in and stormed over to his mother, coughing wildly too. “Mum?”

“How on earth did this happen?” Anne shrieked. “Bloody dammit!” Harry watched as his mother pulled the skirt of her now dirty dress from the large contraptions gear hold, ripping a hole that followed up along to her waist and showed her undergarments.

Harry carefully looked over his mother, making sure there were no signs of blood anywhere; all he found was smoke and ash on his mother's face and clothing. “Are you alright, mum?” He retorted softly.

Pulling out a cloth from the pocket of his blue trousers, Harry rubbed it along his mother stained cheek, revealing soft, light skin underneath signs of hard labor - and of course another one of her inventions accidental backfires.

His mother's face appeared disgruntled, but he always admired her perseverance and passion into her work, especially when they didn’t go particularly well. He knew his mother tried her best, and can do her best. It’s just that sometimes she could rethink her specialties twice. Whenever a device didn’t go right, she didn’t act right.

Anne wasn’t at all old looking for her age of late 30s. Her hair was unruly around her shoulders (the same deep brown color as Harry), large eyes, or for better wording, she was like a female version of him. The adequate shoulders with a solidified face. She’s aged well enough in her son’s opinion. Plus, there were signs of small white hairs that peeked out from years of stress. But, her figure was well constructed from that. She never truly looked wasted away than most single parent.

She was a breathtaking encouragement in his life; she raised him, supplied him when there was only enough food left for one person, and most of all, protected him. He only wanted the absolute best for her. She’s done so much for him already.

Anne pulled away, huffing, glancing over at her rusted, smoking machine. “I’m about ready to give up on this hunk of junk!” And, she kicked it with her worn out boot as hard as she could administer.

A smiled played at Harry’s lips, giggling amusingly. “You always say that.” He clarified.

Anne threw her restless hands in the air, “I mean it this time! I’ll never get this idiotic contraption to work!” Pointing accusingly at her work, as if it was scorning her brilliance and long patients.

“Yes you will,” Harry assured, a proud smile plastered on his cheeky face. “And you’ll win first prize at the fair tomorrow.”

“Humph!” Anne puffed, sulking, and crossing her agitated arms tightly across her chest. Not convinced by Harry supporting words, however.

Harry shook his head sweetly, and placed both his calming hands on his mother’s shoulders. “…And becoming a world famous inventor.” He honestly guaranteed. He, beyond a doubt, believed in his mother's work. She exerted herself day and night on her inventions, and she required beneficial gratitude. She needed to know someone loved and encouraged her to work wonders.

Anne’s eyes softened and a smile spread across her face. But, her eyebrows quirked despite that, somewhat unconvinced. “You…you really believe that, sweetie?”

Harry chuckled, a bright expression flashed across his face, his eyes brightening. “I  _always_ have.” He sincerely said.

Anne laughed heartedly, wrapping her shoulders around her son’s neck, bouncing in a cheerful circle with Harry. Just like that, she had a spring in her step.

A moment later, she released herself with a joyous sigh of relief, and quickly straightened her shoulders for big work to look forward to. “Well, what are we waiting for? I’ll have this thing fixed in no time!”

Harry was thrilled to the bone to see his mother with this much energy and instant keenness.

Anne laughed in satisfaction as she slid under the machine she had harassed earlier. “Love, hand me that dog-legged clincher there…”

Harry complied and walked over to her tool box at the far side of the room. It was surprising how well he knew his mothers tool now, how she trained him young to know what even the strangest material was used for.

Changing the general topic for the moment, Anne asked, “So, did you have a good time in town today?”

Grasping the correct tool, Harry grabbed his book along with it, walking over to his mother.

“Mum,” He started lowly, suddenly recollection about the events of today from his mother’s question. His eyes drooped down, looking at his soiled shoes. Then, crouched down to lend the tool to his mother’s greased hands. “Do you think I’m … odd?”

Anne pulled herself from underneath her invention, appearing with her bizarre goggle device on her head, blinking her distorting eyes that looked skeptically at Harry. “My son?  _Odd_?” She inquired in disbelief. “Where did you get an idea like that?”

When Anne went back under, Harry embarrassingly felt the bind of his book, blissfully running his fingers through the pages. His chest wrenched. “Oh I don’t know. It’s just that I’m not sure I fit in here.” Slight pricking danced behind his eyelids as he blinked them back, drawing his book closer to his chest. “There’s no one I can really talk to.”

Harry disliked making his mother feel bad for moving here, but he knew it was temporary. She understood he wanted to live somewhere more different.

“Uh, what about that Zayn Malik? He’s a handsome lad.” She commented, reaching next to her to grab another one of her tools.

Harry chuckled absentmindedly. “He’s handsome alright, and  _rude_ and  _conceited_ and - !” He threw his hands up in the air, overwhelmed, slumping down by the fireplace. Sadly, he remembered how toxic Zayn acted earlier, how horrible he was, his mind was very much in the gutter at this point. Harry didn’t find that pleasing.  “Oh mum, he’s not for me.” He sighs, resting his hand on his cheek.

“Well, don’t you worry, cause this inventions gonna be the start of a new life for us.” Anne said, with elasticity laced in her tone. She left her invention and got up to pick up the cloth Harry kept by and wiped her hands of the grease. “I think that’s done it. Now, let’s give it a try.”

Anne pulls the red lever and steamed started to emerge from the pole at the top. Anne covered her eyes, expecting the worst as Harry stood behind her, watching in awe. But, the moment it started to whir to life, he ducked his head low. As the spindles spun, and the handles hit just as accordingly, the axe chopped the wood perfectly, flinged it across the room to its shelf, just as the machine was designed to.

Harry exclaimed, putting a hand to his heart, “It works!”

“It does?” Anne said, confused by the initial shock. Then, the smile grew. “It  _does_!”

Resting a hand on Anne arm, Harry giggled, while also avoiding the flinging wood above his head. “You did it, mum!” He reeled in closer to wrap his hands around her neck lovingly, “You really did it!”

Anne looked with poise at Harry, grabbing his face and kissing him on both his cheeks. “Hun, hitch up Philippe, I’m off to the fair!”

Before she could radiate anymore of her excitement, a log strikes her in the temple, causing her to slump to the ground, knocking her unconscious.


End file.
